


There is art to medicine

by BossStitch, Mix Stitch (Synph)



Series: Single Dad Doctor!Bruce [1]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, Doctors & Physicians, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Flirting, Friendship, Frottage, Happy Ending, Humor, Kid Fic, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Messy, Past Relationship(s), Post-Divorce, Single Parents, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:52:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5462330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BossStitch/pseuds/BossStitch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synph/pseuds/Mix%20Stitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce is happy with the life that he has. Despite what his friends and coworkers at the clinic say, Bruce isn't <i>lonely</i>. </p><p>Or so he tells himself right up until the point that he walks into one of the examination rooms in the Park Row clinic that he helps run and meets Dick Grayson, single father to the a very young metahuman daughter.</p><p>(Note on rating: Parts 1-3 are General, Part 4 is Explicit.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [st00pz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/st00pz/gifts).



> **Full Pairing List** : Bruce Wayne/Dick Grayson (Developing), Harvey Dent/Gilda Dent (Background), Dick Grayson/Cheyenne Freemont (Past), Bruce Wayne/Talia al Ghul (Past), Bruce Wayne/Harvey Dent (Past), Bruce Wayne/Other Characters (Past)
> 
>  **Rating:** Parts 1-3 are General, Part 4 is Explicit
> 
>  **Contains:** fast-paced relationship, flirtation, kidfic, domesticity, humor, friends to lovers to friends, significant past relationships, timeskip, (relatively) explicit sexual content, frottage, penetrative sex, messy sex, unsafe sex, fluff, happy endings
> 
>  **Beta Credit** : [fleetsparrow](fleetsparrow.tumblr.com), [42isrobin](42isrobin.tumblr.com), and [Kitty](http://quinntessential.co.vu/)
> 
>  **Notes:** This was written for tumblr user st00pz who rocks my socks. Obviously, you can tell that I got carried away, bb, but the story just took hold of me and wouldn't let go.
> 
> AU Specific Notes: After his father dies in what looks like a mugging gone wrong, Bruce resolves to follow in his father's footsteps. Leslie Thompkins becomes his mentor and after he completes med school, he joins her in creating clinics around Gotham City for people who would otherwise fall through the cracks of society.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 1/23/2016 to fix a typo about Chloe's age. She's supposed to be a toddler (age ambiguous), not a three year old. I made a note to fix that in my draft and then... Didn't. Whoops.

Bruce Wayne is a man of very simple pleasures.

He enjoys the time that he spends with his son, the luxury of a good cup of coffee in the morning, a long run through Robinson Park and of course, Bruce enjoys his job. He likes being a pediatrician and he's good at taking care of other people. He'd have to be in Gotham City where there's an accident on every corner and yet few people can actually afford the cost of healthcare in the city.

When Bruce comes into the Park Row clinic one muggy Monday morning, Crystal Brown greets him with a smile and a tall stack of files. One of the first nurses to sign onto his and Leslie's labor of love and a friend from very early on in his path to becoming a doctor, Crystal is one of the few people that can waylay Bruce on his way to his office without getting a dirty look for it.

"You've got a busy day ahead of you, Bruce," Crystal says with a wide smile on her lips as she watches Bruce juggle his coffee and the files. "There's a really bad stomach virus going around the nearby schools and every parent within a four block radius seems to have made an appointment. I've split the work up between you, Shondra, and Mahreen since Leslie is still uptown in meetings until after lunch."

Bruce frowns. "More meetings?"

"We're having trouble getting funding for the new clinic," Crystal confesses, stepping close and lowering her voice even though there aren't any patients around. "We need more medicine and more money to hire doctors."

"I _told_ Leslie that I could handle this for her," Bruce says, more than a little bit exasperated with the woman that's been his mentor since he first decided to follow his father's footsteps all those years before. "Wayne Enterprises has always helped out businesses in need and it was understood that when I started working with Leslie, we would be free to use a portion of the company's profits for it."

Crystal snorts, rolling her eyes.

"Well, you know Leslie. She's probably already convinced herself that you'll go broke if you help out even a little." Before Bruce can say anything else, Crystal claps her hands together. "We'll gang up on Leslie when she comes in for the afternoon shift."

"You're that eager for me to get to work, eh?" Bruce asks.

"You'll understand when you see your first appointment," Crystal says with a smile on her face that passes mischievous on its way to wicked before tapping the folder at the very top of the stack that Bruce is having so much trouble holding. "Dick Grayson and his daughter Chloe are in Examination Room 2. They're here for a sprain and to see about setting you up as the little girl's primary physician."

Bruce blinks. "Me? Why?"

At that, Crystal's mouth tightens with a frown.

"The little girl has metahuman genes and they've had _problems_ finding a doctor for her in the past even though she doesn't have any powers to show for it yet. The father didn't say much about it, but I have the feeling that they've been having trouble with other doctors in Gotham even at some of the other clinics."

The anger on Crystal's face and in her voice is thunderous. "She's just a _baby_ –"

"I know, Crystal. I know." Bruce shakes his head, empathizing with his friend's anger and feeling the first stirrings of his own. "Don't worry. I'll take care of them."

And he means it.

~

When Bruce pushes open the door to the examination room, he honestly doesn't know what he's expecting to see. Despite living and working in Gotham City for much of his life, he's only come into contact with a handful of metahumans and they've all been adults living their own lives. This is the first time that he's ever met such a young metahuman and he doesn't want to mess anything up – not with what Crystal said about her suspicions.

Dick Grayson and his daughter Chloe defy expectations from the start. Dick is young, younger than Bruce is at any rate, with black hair that touches the collar of his shirt, bright blue eyes and the most charming dimple set deep in his right cheek. His daughter Chloe is a tiny thing, smaller than the average toddlertoddler but not worryingly so. At first, with her dark red hair and the smoky blue of her eyes, she doesn't look much like her father to Bruce's eyes. But then she smiles and Bruce well… Bruce can see the resemblance.

"Say 'Hi' to the doctor, Chloe," Dick says with a smile that lights up the room. He's holding one of Chloe's tiny hands in his own, fingers brushing over the back of her hand as the little girl offers Bruce a shy smile. When he lets her hand go, Chloe waves at Bruce once before turning and hiding her face in the curve of her father's neck.

Bruce can't stop himself from smiling at the picture that the two of them make.

"It's nice to meet you both," he says. "So, my nurse says that you're here to get help for a sprain?"

Dick nods. "I know I'm not an expert, but I think she twisted her right arm in her sleep. When she woke up this morning, she had this – this bruise." Dick falters, worry tightening his features. "I just want her to get better. Can you do anything for her, like get her an x-ray or something to see how bad it is?"

"I can help with that," Bruce assures him. "We have an x-ray technician on staff and a machine in the basement so that we don't have to send Chloe anywhere else for x-rays and I'd be happy to walk you through every step of the process."

When Dick relaxes, shoulders slumping as the smile returns to his face, Bruce pushes on. "And if you want – we can set up an appointment for you both for a check-up later on in the month once we're done."

Dick blinks. "You – You're --"

He pauses, obviously at a loss for words.

"The nurse told me that she had some concerns about the way you and Chloe have been treated," Bruce says in as gentle a tone as he can muster. "I don't know much about metahumans, but I know that nothing excuses mistreating a child. If you'll let me, I'd be happy to take care of Chloe from now on."

"You'd do that for me – for _us_?" Dick asks in a hushed tone. "Most people don't really like metahumans. Honestly, it's not as bad as it could be, but Chloe has a weaker immune system than she should and the fact that I have to take the train to Metropolis to find a doctor willing to help us is…"

Bruce takes up talking when Dick's sentence trails off. "It's not really a good option, is it? Don't worry: our clinic caters to everyone in need. Once we look at her wrist, we can figure out the best time for her first check up and regular appointments for the two of you."

"You're very nice," Dick blurts out. He pauses, the light brown skin of his face darkening with a faint red hue as he flushes. "It's just – I'm not used to nice doctors. Thank you."

~

Crystal slips into Examination Room 2 mere moments after Asa takes Dick and Chloe down to the x-ray machine and closes the door behind her.

"Well?" Crystal asks, the expectation in her voice so thick that Bruce could probably cut it with a knife. Bouncing on the tips of her toes, Crystal can't seem to stay still and her excitement is almost infectious. Almost.

When Bruce turns away under the pretext of putting all of his files and notes in order, he allows himself a private smile. By the time that he turns back to her, though Bruce's face is set in its normal neutral expression. No smiles to give him away.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Crystal," Bruce says, somehow managing to keep a straight face. "I merely told Dick that he could come back for a regular appointment at any time." Belatedly, Bruce realizes his mistake just as Crystal's smile widens and she claps her hands together. "Really, Crystal, you're being ridiculous."

Crystal shakes her head.

"You like him," she says. "I knew you would. He's just your type –"

At that, Bruce can _feel_ his eyebrows arching up. "I have a type?"

That's news to him.

"Dark hair, light eyes, a charming personality, and a smile that could melt the iciest heart," Crystal says, her tone nearly dry as she makes the observation. "Now who does that sound like –"

It sounds like Harvey.

And Selina.

And Talia (if Bruce considers the smiles that were just for him).

"That's not enough," he points out, almost sputtering. "You make it sound like I only date –" Bruce falters, finding himself at a sudden loss for words. "It doesn't matter. He's a patient, not someone that you've set me up with. I'm not going to ask him out or anything, that wouldn't be right."

Just because he thinks that Dick is attractive, doesn't mean that Bruce can act on it. Bruce dates more than his fair share of attractive people, but patients and co-workers aren't on the approved list.

Crystal's upturned nose wrinkles with her frown once Bruce tells her as much. "I'm not telling you to marry the boy," she says with a roll of her eyes. "When was the last time you went on a date? When was the last time you had any fun?"

Bruce can feel the very beginning of a headache brewing, pulsing sharply at his temples. "I don't think that it's 'fun' to risk a lawsuit by fooling around with a patient," he says in a low voice as if Dick will turn right around the corner. "I'm not lonely, Crystal."

He's not. He has Damian and Alfred and Titus. He has weekly lunches with Harvey and he sees Talia once a month. And of course, Bruce has his patients and his coworkers. So what if he hasn't dated anyone seriously since Selina three years ago –

No matter what Crystal or anyone else may think, Bruce _isn't_ lonely.

"You're not happy either." Apparently, Crystal isn't quite finished poking holes into Bruce's life. She delivers that last sentence in a firm tone, mouth pursed with a frown. "There aren't any laws against dating your patients, Bruce. Don't let something so small keep you from finding happiness."

Bruce grits his teeth until his jaw aches. "You don't need to mother me," he bites out. "You're only two years older than me, you know."

"Two years older and two years wiser," Crystal points out. "Besides, I've been through more than you. I know what it feels like to let something good pass you by." Her gaze grows dark, shuttered in a way that Bruce has come to associate with her winding up lost in thoughts of her ex-husband. After a moment passes, Crystal shakes her head. "Just -- be brave, Bruce."

Bruce's frown only tightens. He's not being a coward. He just --

Well, maybe Crystal has a point, but that doesn't mean that he'll admit it. Thankfully, Asa chooses that moment to come around the nearest corner with Dick and his daughter Chloe sitting together in the wheelchair. Their arrival effectively ends the conversation before Bruce can say something to make Crystal upset or before she can try persuading him to go against his own rules.

"I'll talk to you later," Crystal says with enough promise in her normally pleasant voice that Bruce _knows_ he's going to take the coward's way out and leave early for once. She walks past Bruce, managing a smile for Dick and his little girl before she heads back in the direction of the front desk.

Asa's eyebrows wrinkle as she puts the locks on the wheelchair. "What'd you do to Crystal?"

Bruce can actually _feel_ the moment when the headache starts to hit him.

"I didn't do _anything_ ," he says, the words grit out through clenched teeth. "Now, can please I have my patient back now?"

Dick blinks rapidly, glancing between Asa and Bruce with an uncomfortable look on his face. "Is everything okay?"

Before Bruce can respond, Asa answers for him.

"The big guy's fine," Asa says with the kind of wicked smile that means that she's going to go straight to Crystal and pick her brain once Bruce is too busy to pay attention to her. Asa pulls a folder with Chloe's x-ray results out of the back of the wheelchair and passes it over. "I'll let you get back to work, big guy. See you later, Chloe!"

With a final grin and a waggling wave of her fingers, Asa heads back in the direction of the elevator, leaving Bruce alone with Dick and his daughter. The sound of her laughter echoes through the hallway before Asa even properly turns the corner.

"I'm sorry," Bruce says, shifting to the side so that Dick and Chloe can squeeze by him in the doorway. He offers Dick a smile that winds up returned only a heartbeat later. "I don't know what's gotten into the nurses today. I hope Asa behaved herself."

Dick's smile widens. "She’s nice," he says. "Actually, you're all nice. She told me -- she told me that she's a metahuman too?"

Bruce has never known Asa to take to anyone that quickly. Few of the clinic's staff knows about her history, but they all know that her metahuman status and the trials she's faced by trying to be herself in Gotham City are two things that she simply _doesn't_ talk about. That she'd bring it up to Dick and to Chloe --

"Asa likes you," Bruce says simply, still smiling as he walks over to clip the x-rays onto the x-ray viewer so that he can take a look at Chloe's arm. It takes only a handful of seconds for Bruce to come to a conclusion about the little girl's health and the status of her arm.

"It's just a minor sprain," Bruce says, when he turns around to face both Dick and his daughter. "We'll get your little girl a wrist brace and a lollipop and then set you up for a follow up in about a week and a half. How does that sound?"

Dick doesn't answer at first. In fact, it takes him so long to find his voice that he doesn't even seem like he's going to respond to Bruce. When he does speak though. his voice wavers with the depth of his emotion.

"That's it?" Dick asks.

Bruce nods.

"Sprains like these are common in children," he says, soothingly. He dares to reach out and clasp one hand over Dick's right shoulder, thumb sweeping over skin through the thin fabric of that shirt before he pulls his hand back and smiles. "She'll be fine. You did the right thing in bringing her here."

"Thank you," Dick murmurs, gaze falling down as if he can't bring himself to meet Bruce's eyes. "I didn't -- I thought." He pauses after a moment, turning to press a kiss to the top of Chloe's head as his eyes squeeze tightly shut. "Thank you, Dr. Wayne."

Chloe echoes him a moment later, baby babble falling from her lips in a way that makes Bruce think of the preteen son that he has back at home and the moments that he missed.

"Call me Bruce, please," he says.

Dick's eyes widen, drawing Bruce's attention to the vivid blue of his iris. "I couldn't --"

"Please?" Bruce doesn't know why he's pressing it. This is the first time that he's ever even tried to be friendly like this with a patient from the start. There's nothing professional about him wanting Dick to call him by his first name or watching those lovely blue eyes and _wanting_. Bruce shakes his head, trying to knock those distracting thoughts right out of it. Eventually, he manages a smile for Dick that doesn't feel as if it's moments away from becoming a leer.

"Now," Bruce says, addressing the words directly to Chloe who watches him with the sort of curiosity that comes naturally to children as small as she is. "Let's see about getting your arm taken care of so that I can get you and your daddy scheduled for your next appointment."


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce only leaves an hour early.

Certainly, he is taking the coward's way out in leaving while Crystal is busy helping Mahreen on a routine vaccination gone pear-shaped, but he can't imagine being comfortable with the lecture that seeing Crystal will gain him. With any luck, Crystal won't remember ever wanting to speak to him about Dick and Dick --

Dick will come back to the clinic and everything will be perfectly professional.

It has to be.

When Bruce's phone rings, he answers it without looking. The only people with this number are the people who need him. People like Alfred, Damian, Leslie, and --

"Harvey," Bruce says with genuine warmth suffusing his tone. "What the hell are you doing calling me this early in the afternoon? I thought you were wrapped up in court all day."

Harvey's laughter makes Bruce feel like smiling. But then, that's the way things have always been between them. Harvey is the light, the joy in their lives. And Bruce? He's a silent shadow. It's the sort of thing that's served them well in the years in school and after, one role that Bruce is loath to relinquish now.

"I got out early, man," Harvey says. "We had an incident in the courthouse and we're out for the day while they do clean up." The way that Harvey speaks, the way he carries is so cheerful. He could be talking about a murder in the courthouse, or an illness, and he'd sound the same way while talking to Bruce. As long as he's in public, he's this larger than life figure that always leaves Bruce feeling a little bit of awe.

Bruce licks his lips, fingers flexing over his car keys. "So, tell me why you're calling me?"

Bruce can practically _hear_ the grin in Harvey's deep voice. "We're having an early dinner," he says.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Harvey confirms. "You. Me. Gilly. Cobblepot's new club opened last week and it's always fun to rile him up by showing up at his businesses before I shut them down. You can even bring a date if you want." He pauses. "Or are you single. _Again_."

Bruce shakes his head despite the fact that Harvey can't see him. "You take far too much interest in my love life, Harvey," he murmurs.

"What love life?" Harvey fires back. "And it's my job as your best friend _and_ ex to make sure that you're happy. And let's face it, Bruce: you haven't been happy since Selina dumped you for that detective."

It's good to know that even friendship won't keep Harvey from bringing up the worst moments in his life. Bruce sighs.

"What're you going to bring up next, Harv," Bruce says in a weary tone. "My failed relationship with Clark Kent or the time that Talia told me that she was divorcing me over _dinner?_ " Belatedly, Bruce remembers that he's still on the very busy sidewalk in front of his clinic and he quickly unlocks his door and slides into the driver side seat, his cellphone pressed to his ear tightly as if that'll stop him from simply flinging it aside.

For once – possibly the first time in his _life_ – Harvey is silent.

It doesn't last.

It can't.

Harvey comes back on the line, his voice subdued. "Bruce, you know I didn't mean it like that."

Sighing, Bruce gets ready to pull out into traffic. "It's fine," he says. "Just – it's fine. Let's forget about it. Should I come get you and Gilda now or later?"

At this point, Bruce would be _fine_ with just going back to the manor and having a quiet evening alone with Alfred and Damian. He'd even be fine with having a quiet dinner just by himself.

Something of that hesitation must show in Bruce's voice because Harvey's voice softens.

"You know, big guy," Harvey says in a mild tone. "You don't have to come out. Gilly'd be happy to cook for you."

Bruce has to laugh at that, chuckling as he shakes his head.

"And then order takeout once she's burnt dinner," he replies. "I really am fine, Harv. Now should I come get you from the courthouse or what?”

"Why don't you have Alfred do the driving," Harvey says. "I'll get Gilly to come pick me up and you can have the old man chauffeur us around tonight." There's laughter in his voice again and Bruce catches himself smiling despite his mood.

"And what should I do with my son?" Bruce asks.

Harvey hums into the phone. "He's twelve, isn't he? Let him come along."

" _Harvey_ ," Bruce says into the phone as his voice drops down into a growling tone. "You can't possibly be serious about taking my son into a restaurant run by a criminal that you've been trying to put away for the past five years. Are you _trying_ to get him killed?" Bruce could probably keep going, building up steam until Harvey probably'd regret calling him in the first place.

But this is Harvey Bruce is talking to. He knows how to handle Bruce.

"Relax," Harvey says. "I'm just kidding. Damian's a cute kid, but he'd totally cramp my style. Just leave him home for a few hours. It'll be fine." Spoken like a man that hasn't yet reached parenthood.

Bruce almost wants to tell Harvey about the time that he'd gone out with Silver St. Cloud just after his divorce only to come home and find the gardens in shambles. Or the time with Julie Madison where Damian had set the stove on fire. Boredom to Damian has always expressed itself in acts of wanton destruction. Often expressed while Bruce was out on a date.

Honestly, Bruce could _almost_ consider taking his son out with them just so that he doesn't have to worry about coming home to a house on fire.

Instead of saying any of the thoughts that come to his head, Bruce murmurs his agreement just in time to take the turn that leads to the manor.

"I'll see you in an hour then?" Bruce asks.

Harvey's laughter is nearly muffled by the sounds of the busy Gotham City streets around him.

"Better make that two," Harvey says. "Gilly's just wrapped up a case of her own and you know how that is –"

Sadly, Bruce does. Mostly because Gilda and Harvey really are two peas in a pod and back when Bruce and Harvey were dating –

Well, Bruce is just thankful that they never had another roommate to traumatize back when they were in college.

"I'll see you in a few hours, Harv," Bruce says, finding himself eager to get off the phone before his friend says something that Bruce can't forget that he heard.

~

One of Cobblepot's latest (and supposedly legal) ventures in Gotham City, the Gin Joint is a 1920s speakeasy-themed restaurant where all of the staff outside of the kitchen wears period-appropriate clothing. All the waitresses are wearing variation on flapper dresses and all of the men look as if they've stepped straight out of a gangster film. From the decorations on the walls down to the band playing music on a stage set catty-corner to the bar, everything about the Gin Joint seems like it's been pulled right from that period of history.

It should be tasteless and somewhat tacky, Bruce thinks to himself, trailing behind Harvey and Gilda as the hostess – a dark-skinned young woman with a piercing grey gaze – leads them through the packed restaurant. After all, those two words are somewhat synonymous with the Cobblepot name.

However, the Gin Joint has a sense of charm to it that is definitely lacking from the other restaurants and clubs that Cobblepot has owned -- and lost -- before.

Bruce glances around as the hostess leads them to a table tucked away in a corner of the room. It's a table for a couple on a date, not a table for said couple and their perpetually single friend.

Bruce feels uncomfortable immediately.

Harvey and Gilda are his friends and he does love them, but there are few things more awkward and uncomfortable than being the couple's third wheel.

Gilda, slight and sweet in a dark purple dress and matching plum-colored lipstick, presses up against Harvey's side in the restaurant, smiling up at him as if the sun rises and sets on his face. And Harvey -- Bruce's best friend and the first person he ever thought he was in love with-- well, he's looking at her the same way.

The intimacy of the looks that they share leaves no room for Bruce.

Instead, Bruce gets to settle back with his menu and pretend that he isn't feeling quite as out of place as he probably looks. At first, Bruce tries to act natural. He tries to draw Harvey and Gilda into conversation a couple times, but then, when he realizes how wrapped up in one another they are. He quickly makes his excuses.

"I'll be back," Bruce says, managing a smile for his two best friends when they deign to look away from one another. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the bar that takes up one massive section of the restaurant's wall next to the door that leads to the kitchens. "Getting drinks, you know? Do you want anything while I'm there?"

Bruce's smile widens, becoming more genuine as Harvey and Gilda jolt apart. "I _was_ going to wait for you two to remember that I was here, but that would've taken too long."

"Thanks," Harvey says with a grin on his face that's not even the slightest bit apologetic. "Think you can snag us a couple of glasses of apple cider?"

Gilda at least has the good grace to duck her head and blush. "I'm sorry we're ignoring you, Bruce," she says in a high, sweet voice. "It's just -- with our cases running us ragged, Harvey and I don't really get to see much of each other."

Bruce has to laugh at that, at Harvey's insouciance and Gilda's charming bashfulness. He waves away Gilda's apologies, smiling to reinforce what he says next.

"It's fine, Gilda," he says. "Just make sure that Harvey orders the steak with portabella mushrooms for me when the waitress gets back. He knows how I like it, but you're more than distracting enough to make him forget about it."

Gilda nods her head once, hard enough that the sleek black bob of her hair swings forward. When she glances up at Bruce again, her dark eyes are wide and there's a firm set to her mouth. She looks determined not to let Bruce down.

"I won't let him forget," she says a moment later before a radiant smile steals across her face. She reaches out across the table and squeezes one of Bruce's hands with her deceptively strong ones. Small and slight as she may be, Gilda is still a force to be reckoned with and that brief touch cinches it.

Smiling, Bruce shakes his head. "You're going to have your work cut out for you, Gilda."

Harvey laughs, dark brown eyes crinkling up at the corners with his smile. "I'll take it easy on her, Bruce. Don't worry."

~

By luck, Bruce manages to find an empty barstool in front of the counter. The seat to his right is taken by someone that looks vaguely familiar to Bruce's gaze, but before he can open his mouth to try and make that connection a little less tenuous, the bartender turns around and Bruce comes face to face with an even more familiar face.

"Mr. Wayne!" Dick's blue eyes take in Bruce's _everything_ from his vantage point behind the counter.

In one hand, he holds two bottles of a microbrew bearing a large and loudly obnoxious "Made in Gotham City" label across the front. In the other, a handful of napkins. Dick passes the beer bottles off to the other bartender working with him and then turns to face Bruce properly, settling his elbows on his side of the counter as he leans over.

Bruce can feel his face heat with a flush. It takes _effort_ for Bruce not to reach up and loosen the tie around his neck as his throat tightens.

"Dick, I -- " He stalls, mouth blanking as he takes in Dick and his uniform. Almost everyone around him is wearing the same thing, slim fit pants and a dark blue vest that shows off the lean musculature of his chest over a white shirt, but Dick looks --

"I didn't know that you worked here," Bruce says in lieu of anything else to say. He offers Dick a smile and tries to pretend that he's not seriously _dying_ from anxiety in that moment. "It's good to see you though. I just --"

Dick's lips quirk up with a faint smile. "Wasn't expecting to see one of your patients' parents passing out drinks?"

That's not it.

Not at all.

Bruce manages to say as much in a few stammering sentences. He feels like he's younger, sixteen again instead of _thirty-six_ and fumbling through a conversation with one of his many crushes. Despite the fact that Dick is one of his patients (or as good as) he can't stop himself from genuinely _liking_ the younger man.

Or his daughter.

Thinking of Chloe --

"Where's Chloe?" The second that the question slips free of Bruce's mouth, he feels his face heat up with another flush. Despite his best intentions, it isn't a very intelligent question and they both know it. Obviously, the little girl isn’t likely to be in a restaurant like this anytime soon.

Dick laughs. Presumably, it's at least a little bit at Bruce's expense.

"She's with a friend," Dick says. "I work here a few nights a week to pay my friend Jason for watching her during the week and another friend watches her while I'm here." The smile on Dick's face shifts, losing some of its cheer. "Chloe's mom helps when she can, but that's not as much as we'd like." Dick shakes his head, forcing himself to smile. "But it's fine. In a few years, my little girl will be able to go to school and I can look for a job that doesn't make me dress up like I'm about to rob an old timey bank."

Bruce smiles because he feels as if he's supposed to, but there's something about Dick's posture and the way that he shifts as they talk that raises his attention.

"You're tired," Bruce says. He makes as if to stand up. "And at work. I should go –"

Dick reaches out across the bar, one hand resting on Bruce's forearm. "Stay," he says. "Please, it’s fine. I can talk and work. Besides, I want to talk to you." Dick pulls back and then combs his fingers through a few stray locks of overlong black hair that curves against the left side of his face. "Or should I let you get back to your friends?"

"You saw who I came in with?" Bruce says, pleasantly surprised.

It's Dick's turn to flush although Bruce barely sees it in the dim lighting of the restaurant. Dick ducks his head.

"You're _Bruce Wayne_ and you just walked into one of the Penguin's restaurants with Gotham City's DA and his fiancé. By now, I'd be surprised if anyone here didn't know who you were."

Frankly, Bruce doesn't know how to respond to Dick. All of his charm, all of the years of etiquette lessons and Harvey's attempts to teach him how to snag dates instead of stumbling all over himself drift out of his head like ashes on the wind. He knows that he's staring. He also knows that he probably couldn't stop short of Dick telling him to.

"I – Well –"

Dick's smile comes back with a teasing note to it. "Are you sure that I can't get you anything?"

Belatedly, Bruce remembers that Harvey and Gilda are still at the table with their orders already off to the kitchen. He dares to glance back at them. All he can see of the couple is Harvey's dark head and the pale feather in Gilda's headband sticking straight up into the air, with their heads pressed so close together, Bruce doubts that they've even noticed that he's missing.

"I _was_ supposed to get my friends some apple cider," Bruce says, sounding almost apologetic to his own ears. "I want to stay and talk, but well –" Bruce pauses for the barest of moments and shrugs. "I should see about getting drinks to go with our dinner."

Dick's lips thin with a frown that seems to be reflexive at first. And then, his face brightens with a sunny smile.

"I can take care of that," Dick says, his smile turning mischievous as he talks, from underneath the counter he pulls out two champagne glasses. His fingers hover over a third glass before he glances up at Bruce, his eyebrows drawing together briefly. "Ah. Do you want cider or something stronger?"

Bruce doesn't have to think about it. "Something stronger." He catches himself and then gives Dick a smile. "Please?"

The light in Dick's eyes doesn't dim. "Sure thing, Mr. Wayne," he says, with a nod of the head. "Let me just get your friends squared away and I'll take good care of you." Warmth now in Dick's voice and in the way that he looks at Bruce. "If you want, I can even make you one of the old-fashioned cocktails that the boss has on the menu. Any preferences?"

"I'd like something sweet," Bruce decides, settling in at the counter with his forearms resting on the polished wood surface. "But other than that? Surprise me."

In the end, Dick makes Bruce something called a Southside. Gin, lime, mint, and a sweet simple sugar combine to make a drink that doesn't taste like it'd be able to knock Bruce on his ass. Bruce licks his lips, savoring the flavors as Dick stands there and watches him with a nervous, eager look on his face.

Eventually, Bruce finds the words that he wants to say.

"It's good," Bruce says. "I like that you can barely taste the gin." It's not something that most people would expect to hear someone like him say, but Bruce is comfortable in his flaws. He's never much liked strong drinks and he's glad that he can drink the Southside without wanting to rush to the nearest bathroom and rinse his mouth out.

Dick's smile returns at full wattage. "Al Capone used to drink Southsides," he says, offering up the knowledge along with another splash of liquor in Bruce's glass. "Personally, if I'm drinking here I go for a Mary Pickford. It's like drinking dessert."

Bruce doesn't think that he's smiled as much in his life as he's smiled in a few too-brief moments with Dick. He opens his mouth (to thank Dick, to do the unthinkable and ask him out, to compliment him) but before one single syllable can slip free from his mouth, Dick's eyes narrow and he looks out, over Bruce's head and into the crowded restaurant. Whatever he sees makes him frown.

"I think – I think your food is ready," Dick says. "I should let you go."

Bruce doesn't want to go. But he has to. Getting up from his seat is torture already. Moving away from Dick and back to a table where he'll be constantly reminded of what he wants and can't have in the pleasant perfection of Harvey and Gilda's marriage will be even more so.

"It was nice talking to you," Bruce says even though the words don't cover all of it.

Dick looks down, clearly avoiding Bruce's gaze. "Yeah," he murmurs. "I'll see you around."


	3. Chapter 3

After that night at Cobblepot's restaurant, Bruce keeps running into Dick and Chloe everywhere.

At first, Bruce honestly thinks that he's hallucinating. There's been a recent spate of crimes involving one of the local water treatment plants and one of the symptoms of drinking the contaminated water is the onset of hallucinations. However Bruce is not hallucinating. He doesn't even drink water from that particular plant. But then how else can Bruce explain the way that he starts seeing Dick all over the place?

Two days after that faintly awkward dinner with Harvey and Gilda, Bruce is in the middle of a slow-moving line at the Sundollars closest to the clinic when he feels the lightest tap of fingers over his shoulders. He turns around, fully expecting to see one of his nurses about to ask him to cover their morning coffee, and winds up staring straight into Chloe Grayson's round little face.

The little girl is smiling wide and Bruce doesn't dream of disappointing her by not smiling back. When his gaze slides over to Dick a moment later, his smile threatens to falter but he forces himself to hold eye contact.

"I didn't think I'd see you again so soon, Chloe," Bruce says, teasing the smiling little girl gently as she waves her left hand at him and wiggles against her father's hold. He turns his head so that he can look at Dick as he talks to him. "Early morning? You look tired."

Dick shrugs. "Chloe had a rough night," he admits. "I'm taking her over to my friend Jason's place right after I get some coffee."

"And then?" Bruce asks as the line moves up and they get closer to the counter.

"I'm going to work," Dick says with a shake of her head. "No naps for me until I pick Chloe up on my way home. We usually pass out together on the couch until it's time for me to head to work or make us an early dinner." Dick's teeth sink into his bottom lip and when he glances up at Bruce, there's a notable sheepishness to his features. "God, you must think I'm so boring."

Quickly, Bruce shakes his head. "You're not boring," he says as he watches Dick turn away from him and focus on playing with Chloe's fingers. "You're –"

Bruce doesn't get a chance to fumble his way through another compliment. The young man at the counter calls for the person that's next in line and Bruce has to turn away from Dick and Chloe. He orders his usual, a black coffee with extra sugar, and then hands the kid a twenty.

"You see the man behind me? The one with the little girl?" Bruce asks. When the barista nods, Bruce continues talking. "I'm paying for their order. Whatever's left, is yours."

The kid nods, looking shocked. "S-sure thing, man."

Bruce grabs his coffee and then, with a smile for Dick and Chloe, he heads back out on the street and to his office.

The next time that Bruce sees Dick and his daughter, it's a sunny Saturday morning. Instead of sleeping in late after a week of waking up at dawn in order to make sure that Damian makes it to school on time, Bruce is wide awake and sitting at a picnic table at Robinson Park. He could be sleeping. In fact, he _should_ be in bed with his covers tucked around his body.

But no—

Damian and Titus have obedience class. Again.

Bruce sighs and then drains his coffee in one deep gulping swallow. He sets the cup down with a hollow sort of clatter, staring off into the distance as if the horizon will suddenly reveal the secret for him having a respectful son and a dog that doesn't eat every single pair of shoes that he owns. Bruce is so busy in fact, that he doesn't notice Dick until the younger man sits down beside him, body facing away from the crowd of people and their misbehaving dogs.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think that you were following me."

The sound of Dick's voice makes Bruce tense. Makes him jolt as if he's just been shocked. He turns and sees Dick sitting there dressed in workout clothes with Chloe strapped to his chest in a sling.

"I'm not – I'm just –" When the words fail Bruce (as they are wont to do when Dick is near), Bruce waves one arm in the direction of the students lined up in front of the teacher and her sleek Dalmatian. Damian is obvious to Bruce. He's the youngest person in the class right now and Titus is the biggest dog. Coupled with Damian's temper and the Wayne family name and there's always something going on as far as they're concerned.

Bruce tries again to finish a simple sentence without stuttering and stammering. "My son Damian is supposed to be training his Great Dane not to eat my shoes anymore," he offers. He shifts against the worn wood and turns so that he can take Dick in. "Were you – were you working out _with_ Chloe?"

Dick's nose wrinkles with a frown.

"A walk is _not_ a workout," he says.

Dick eyes Bruce's biceps, exposed in a dark-grey t-shirt that he only wears out of the house when he's going somewhere like the park, and then licks his lips. The gesture is fast. Too fast to interpret accurately on the first try. But then –

"Is um, Damian's mom still in the picture?" Dick asks.

Bruce is quick to shake his head. "No," he says, and for once the memory of Talia doesn't sting. "I've been divorced for three years now. You?"

"Ah," Dick says. "So you noticed the tan line?"

"It's hard not to," Bruce admits. He stretches his arms up over his shoulders until he feels a telltale pop in his spine and tension floods out of his body. When he glances at Dick, he doesn't miss the appraising and almost _hungry_ look on the other man's face.

Dick's breath pushes out of his mouth in a low sigh. "It's been about six months for me," he says. "Cheyenne and I were friends with benefits. After she got pregnant, I proposed and we got married right away." His eyes squeeze shut so tightly that it looks as if it must hurt. "Two months after Chloe was born, we realized that we were better off as friends. I have primary custody and Chey – well she sends money and comes down to Gotham every few weeks."

"You're still friends?"

The shrug that Dick gives Bruce isn't that clear.

"Sort of," Dick says. "What about you and your ex?"

Bruce hastily suppresses a shudder.

"We're –"

Actually, Bruce doesn't know _what_ he and Talia are. He sees her every weekend that she can get away from work, but they don't talk. They haven't had a conversation about something other than Damian since Talia divorced him. He wouldn't consider them friends, that might not be possible, but they're not enemies either.

Bruce settles for saying, "We're – It's complicated." And it is. Some part of Bruce will always love Talia and they had a son together, but Bruce is still wounded by her walking away from him. "We get along, but there's a distance there…"

Dick's lips twist with a wry smile. "I know the feeling."

Against his chest, Chloe starts squirming and fussing, pulling against the sling as if it'll unfold and free her from its confines. After a few seconds, Dick reaches down and unhooks her from the sling, settling her in his lap and then brushing his fingers through her down red hair. Freedom makes Chloe freeze for a second, her eyes widening further as she stares up at Bruce with her little mouth pursed with a frown.

"Do you – do you want to hold her?" Dick asks.

Bruce blinks. "Um –"

He hasn't held a baby since Damian was small. Much of the very young patients that he sees are too shy to cling to him. Even after weeks of treating them and caring for them, some of the very young ones still can't bring themselves to look at his face because they've come to associate Bruce with the person that gives them their shots or stitches up their cuts.

Dick's smile softens. "It's okay," he says, almost crooning as he pets the back of his daughter's head. "Chloe doesn't bite. She knows you and she likes you." Dick eases Chloe up into a standing position, cradling her in the crook of his arm as she wiggles and stretches her tiny arms and legs.

When Dick leans down and presses a kiss to Chloe's hair, Bruce knows that he's set to give in. He reaches out for Chloe, smiling down at her as she stares up at him with faint confusion on her small face, and then shifts to cradle her in his arm.

She's so –

Smaller, even, than Damian when he was her age. She sees so miniscule when compared to Bruce himself, but Bruce can't look away from those inquisitive eyes or the fingers that grab at his arm.

"Hello, Chloe," Bruce says, voice solemn but soft as he strokes the very tip of one finger along one chubby arm. He smiles when she croons at him, baby babble flowing out of her mouth as If she's having a conversation that only she understands, and then glances up at Dick just in time to see the other man tuck his cell phone away.

At Bruce's faint frown, Dick shrugs and pulls the phone back out.

"I couldn't help myself," Dick says in lieu of an apology as he inputs the lock code and then turns the screen around so that Bruce can see a picture of himself holding Chloe. Honestly, it isn't a bad photo. Bruce has never seen himself as very photogenic, but even he has to admit that he looks good with Chloe cradled in his arms.

"Dick, that's --"

Bruce doesn't get to finish his sentence because Damian chooses that moment to run up to his side with Titus thundering beside him. Damian takes one look at Bruce and Chloe and frowns, mouth pinched in a way that reminds Bruce of Alfred at his most disapproving. He eyes Dick as well, fingers flexing around Titus' leash as the Great Dane seems to zero in on Chloe.

Instead of panicking or crying, Chloe does the unthinkable. She claps her tiny hands together and then, at the very top of her lungs, she calls Titus a "puppy". Wiggling and squirming hard enough that Bruce actually has trouble holding her despite his strength, Chloe seems dead-set on reaching Titus.

When Bruce glances at Dick, the other man's face is flushed.

"It's the only word that she knows," Dick says in a defensive tone. He plucks Chloe out of Bruce's arms and wraps her back up in the sling in a deft motion that leaves Bruce gaping. "I'll see you soon for Chloe's appointment."

And with that, Dick leaves Bruce sitting there with Damian staring at him with a knowing look on his face.

"You like him, don't you, Father?" Damian glances in the direction that Dick has taken.

Bruce's only answer is a helpless-looking shrug of the shoulders. "He's just my patient, Damian."

Damian almost scowls. "Well, _do_ something to change that," Damian says. "I don't want to have you pining around the Manor for weeks because you think you've missed your chance."

"I don't pine," Bruce bites out, forgetting for a second that he's talking to his twelve year old son.

"Sure you don't."

~

Bruce goes three days without seeing Dick in all of the usual places before he starts seeing him _everywhere_. He catches glimpses of the man around Gotham, but he never gets close enough to make sure that he's seeing things right.

By the time that he manages to drag Harvey away from his office for a supposed lunch meeting on the Wednesday before Chloe and Dick are supposed to return for Chloe's appointment, things are at a breaking point.

~

This time, Bruce chooses where he and Harvey eat lunch.

He goes with the diner right down from the clinic, a family-owned restaurant that they've been eating at since they were teenagers skipping school. It's nothing like the places that Harvey picks now, the pubs and hipster hangouts that tend to serve people a decade younger than they are on the regular. Bruce knows that Harvey chooses these places based on how good they make him look and that Harvey will never turn down a chance to appear on someone's social media feed.

But he's not in the mood to humor his best friend. Today needs to be about him, Bruce realizes as he watches Harvey walk into the back of the diner with his shades on and a hat pulled down low to cover his dark brown hair.

"Why did you make me come all the way out here?" Harvey asks, sounding put out as he drops down into the seat across from Bruce. "You'd better be dying, big guy." Harvey sounds faintly annoyed with Bruce, but when he takes off his sunglasses a moment later, Bruce can see the worry creasing the corners of his eyes.

Bruce shakes his head. "I'm not," he says.

Harvey rolls his eyes. "I figured as much," he mutters. "So what's the problem?"

At first, Bruce balks. He's known Harvey for almost all of his life. They've shared things that most married couples don't. But this is the first time that it's Bruce confessing something at this level and it makes his head hurt.

Eventually, though –

"I think I might be falling for one of my patients," Bruce mutters, voice so low at first that he has to repeat himself when Harvey's eyebrows scrunch together and he frowns. "I keep seeing him all over the place and he's just so –" Bruce pauses, wracking his brain in an attempt to come up with a word to describe Dick that won't leave Harvey laughing at him for days upon days. Finally, he settles on calling Dick, "Amazing."

When Harvey smirks, Bruce braces himself.

"Gilly owes me sushi," Harvey says. "I told her that there was something different about you when we had dinner last week. She thought the clinic hired a new doctor but I know you, Bruce. I _know_ when you're pining over someone."

"I'm _not_ pining," Bruce snaps a little louder than he means to. Why does everyone that he knows thinks that he's pining? Is it something about his face? Is there a sign on his forehead?

Like Damian, Harvey merely looks amused.

"Well, Bruce," Harvey says. "Whatever it is that you think you're doing, you need to ask him out or give up. You're almost forty. Trust me, desperation doesn't look good on _anyone_ at your age."

Briefly (and not for the first time either), Bruce considers punching his best friend.

He settles for a scowl. "Is that really all the advice you have?"

Harvey leans back in his seat. "You should go for it."

" _Harvey_ ," Bruce says, "He's my patient!"

"But you can change that," Harvey points out. "Just let Leslie treat him. You used to do that when Selina came in with her kid." He winces a second later as if realizing his mistake. "Not the best example, but still. Bruce, don't you think you deserve to be happy for once?"

Bruce frowns. "Harvey, I don't even know if he could be interested in me."

Harvey doesn't even try to hide the way that he rolls his eyes.

"Seriously, Bruce? You're good-looking, good with kids, and richer than Lex Luthor despite your unfortunate habit of pouring money into every single project you can," Harvey drawls. "And somehow, you still think that you have nothing to offer anyone. If you weren't my best friend, I'd worry about you."

Cracking a small smile, Bruce says, "You already worry about me, Harv."

"Yeah, but I'd worry more if I didn't know that you were a good guy," Harvey says. "Now _please_ , can you figure out what you're going to do about this guy so that we can get lunch? Not everyone can be a hotshot doctor that makes their own hours?"

~

The next day, Bruce gets into the clinic even earlier than usual.

Bruce foists coffee and breakfast pasties off on Crystal, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek and then smiling as he rocks back on his heels.

" _You're_ in a good mood today," Crystal says. "Did something happen that I should know about?"

Bruce answers her question with one of his own. "Is Leslie in?"

"You're lucky," Crystal says, jerking her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the office that Leslie commandeers when she doesn't have any patients yet. "She just got in and barring walk-ins she's free for an hour or two. What's going on?"

"Let's just say that you were right." Bruce drops one final hint as he walks past Crystal. "And when Dick Grayson comes in for his daughter's follow-up in a few minutes, send him to Examination Room 1 and call Leslie's phone to let us know."

As Bruce clears the threshold of Leslie's office, he can't make himself stop smiling at the sputtering sounds of frustration that he leaves behind in his wake. Maybe it won't last. Maybe Leslie will shut him down before he even has a chance to argue his side and ask for help, but Bruce is determined to do what he needs to in order to at least _try_ to start a relationship with Dick.

~

When Bruce steps into the examination room with Leslie close behind him, he can almost feel the tension in the air. Chloe, almost too young to notice it, is busy playing with the collar of Dick's pale green t-shirt. Dick, however, stares up at Bruce with worry on his face.

"Is something wrong?" Dick asks.

Quickly, Bruce shakes his head. "No, Dick," he says. Moving to the side, he motions Leslie forward. "But this is Leslie Thompkins. After today, she'll be taking over as you and Chloe's primary physician."

The wounded look on Dick's face hurts Bruce to see it. He feels rather than sees Leslie leave the examination room to give them privacy as Dick's eyes widen and Chloe starts to whimper.

"Bruce – _why_? I thought you wanted to be our doctor?"

There it is, the question that Bruce knew he would have to answer. He straightens his spine and squares his shoulders as he focuses on saying the right things.

"I did," Bruce says. "I _do_. But I also want to ask you out. I can't do that as your doctor." When Dick's brow furrows and he opens his mouth to ask Bruce _why_ , Bruce smoothly continues talking. "Well, yes, I _could_ date you and be your doctor at the same time, but I don't think that would be fair to you. I want to do things properly."

Dick's mouth falls open and he clutches Chloe to his chest. "You _do_?"

He seems… shocked.

So shocked, that Bruce actually finds himself contemplating apologizing. Maybe he misread the signals. Maybe Dick isn't interested in men. Maybe he's not interested in _Bruce_. In a matter of moments, Bruce's brain cycles through everything that could possibly happen next. Few of the things that he comes up with are very good.

Most end with Bruce needing to move to Metropolis to escape the humiliation.

"Should I have done something else?" Bruce asks. He pauses, hesitating on words that he doesn't want to say aloud. "Or was I wrong. Are you not interested in me?"

"No!" Dick shakes his head. "That's not true. That's not it at all – it's just that I honestly can't believe that I'm not dreaming. You don't understand, I didn't think that _you_ were interested in _me_." Dick frowns, his features tight. "You're _Bruce Wayne_. Why would you even want me?"

Bruce has an answer for that. He dares to step closer and reach for Dick's right hand, holding it loosely as he strokes his fingers over Dick's cool skin. Bruce could fumble his way through any number of compliments and praise-filled comments.

Instead of saying any of those things though, Bruce settles for the simple.

"How could I want anyone else?"

Dick's fingers spasm over Chloe's back. "You're not just saying that are you?"

Bruce shakes his head.

"I'm not," he promises. "I mean every word of it. I'd like to take you out to dinner sometime, or even just have you over at the Manor so that Chloe can come with you."

Bruce likes the idea of it all actually: of Dick and Chloe eating with him, Damian, and Alfred in the small dining room while Titus thunders around in a desperate attempt to wheedle his way into their plates. "Would you like that?"

Dick's lips curve up into a smile and he hugs Chloe tightly enough that she squeaks and then tugs at her father's hair when it swings in front of her face. "I would," Dick confesses. "But why don't we start with lunch?"

"Lunch?" Bruce repeats.

"Yeah," Dick says. "I took today off and there's a place about five minutes from here that serves the best Italian food you'll find in the city. We can go on your lunchbreak." Hesitancy creeps back into Dick's voice. " _If_ you want."

Bruce's breath huffs out in a faint bit of laughter. "That would be perfect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The absolutely NSFW stuff comes next chapter. If you're not into the sexy bits, this is where you stop!


	4. Chapter 4

_One Month Later_

For once, Bruce and Dick have time and space to themselves.

The Manor is so large as to appear cavernous, but with Chloe, Damian, _and_ Titus to focus on, few places in its halls provide much privacy. Even the master bedroom where Dick spends most of his nights off curled up against Bruce's side isn't safe from prying eyes.

Thanks to Alfred, Bruce and Dick finally have more time to themselves.

When Dick walks out of the bathroom with his dark hair hanging damp around his face and a towel tied loosely around his waist, Bruce is there to kiss him, lick into Dick's mouth with a low groan that vibrates against their skin. With one last, pointed nibble that sets his teeth into Dick's bottom lip and earns him a shaky moan, Bruce pulls back.

"We should have a couple of hours until Alfred brings the kids back from the park," Bruce murmurs, gaze fixed on Dick's face as he marvels at how being kissed senseless seems to work for Dick's already stunning features. "We should make good use of that time."

Dick's tongue slides out to moisten his lips.

"We should," he murmurs in a voice that's right on the edge of aroused. His eyes flick toward the direction of the bed and then back to Bruce with so much promise in his eyes that Bruce reaches for him immediately, fingers sliding up over bare skin and down to where the terrycloth towel just barely covers the sleek jut of Dick's hipbones. "The bed's _right there_."

Bruce leans in for another kiss because he can't imagine doing anything else with Dick so close to him. Their mouths press together, lips parting with the promise of more. Bruce's hands settle on Dick's hips, thumbs rubbing circles on the golden-brown skin that he can reach as he inches the towel down. They continue kissing, Bruce hauling Dick even closer with one hand pressed against the small of Dick's back just above the dimples set to either side of his spine.

"Mmm," Dick murmurs when they finally stop kissing. He reaches for Bruce, fingers sliding over skin as he pulls Bruce into his arms and drops a series of feather-light kisses along the right side of Bruce's neck, nuzzling what skin he can reach as Bruce's hands slide his towel down even further until it just –

Drops to the floor.

Absolutely confident in his nudity, Dick leans up and brushes one last kiss across Bruce's mouth. He darts out of Bruce's reach when Bruce moves to embrace him again, heading in the direction of the king-sized beds and sheets that are still so rumpled from last night's round of thoroughly exhausting sex. Dick makes his strides long on purpose, glancing over his shoulder just before he climbs onto the bed.

Bruce doesn't hesitate to follow after him.

The bed dips underneath Bruce's weight. He presses Dick into the mattress, kissing and biting at the curve of Dick's throat until Dick cries out and squirms underneath him. Every moan that he pulls out of Dick's throat, every shuddery cry that echoes in the air as Dick rolls his hips and tries to rub off on the hard warmth of Bruce's stomach, makes Bruce want more. He moves down the leanly muscled length of Dick's body, dropping kisses on every single inch of skin that he can reach.

"You taste so good," Bruce murmurs against Dick's skin. He mouths a mark into the skin of Dick's hip, just inches away from where his cock juts out. Achingly hard and slick with pre-come, his cock is mouthwatering. A temptation that Bruce isn't willing to deny himself. Bruce doesn't give Dick a chance to answer or even to do more than moan and knock his head against the mattress. He leans in, mouth soft and open around the tip of Dick's dick, before he slides his mouth down all the way to the root.

Dick's cry of pleasure is almost panicked with its intensity. He reaches for Bruce, fingers sliding across the back of his head as Bruce sucks at his cock with an incredible amount of focus. His cock stiffens on Bruce's tongue, dropping pre-come like a faucet as Dick's hips rock up with shallow thrusts.

Dick croons Bruce's name, body shaking as his toes curl into the mattress and Bruce's fingers dig into his hips, holding him still. Pleasure in that single _shaking_ syllable.

"Please, Bruce," Dick gasps, body shivering as Bruce pulls back just long enough to slurp noisily at the head of his cock. "F- _fuck_ –" Dick stretches out across the mattress, fingers searching for something that Bruce can't identify until a half-empty container of lubricant thuds down on the bed beside his head. "I want you _in_ me, Bruce."

Bruce almost drops the lube once he picks it up. He fumbles open the lid and then gets the fingers on his right hand good and _slick_ before dropping the little jar on the mattress. It bounces once and then stops next to where Bruce's left hand curls over Dick's leg. Bruce is gentle, so gentle, about pushing his fingers between Dick's spread thighs.

Tracing the tips of two fingers around the clenching pucker of Dick's hole wins Bruce a low moan. Dick pants, moaning as he rubs the palms of his hands over his chest down to his cock. He touches himself only briefly, teasing his cock into even further hardness as Bruce rubs against him, breaching him with one finger.

Bruce is careful at first. He works Dick open with one finger first, then two, and finally, when Dick cries out and clenches down on his fingers, he curls them up. After a month of frantic sex and intimate moments whenever they can get them, Bruce _knows_ Dick's body. He knows exactly what it takes to make Dick fall apart in a matter of moments.

It's _easy_.

Dick cries out again, body jerking as Bruce works him through a fast, _intense_ orgasm that leaves his chest striped with come. He slumps back against the bed, chest heaving as he stares up at Bruce with wide eyes.

"Holy shit," Dick says, gasping the words out as Bruce presses kisses along the inside of his right thigh. The touch makes him wriggle across the mattress, makes him yelp when Bruce's teeth scrape across his skin. "H-how are you so _good_ at this?" He flushes, a faint red flush sweeping in to color his chest as he raises a hand to cover his eyes.

Bruce blinks. Dick's embarrassment is… charming. Somehow, it even manages to be erotic.

Bruce and Dick have seen each other in the throes of passion many times. Sure, they might have to work hard to have privacy, but when they get it, they do everything that they can to make the moments memorable. Bruce has seen Dick overwhelmed. He's seen Dick collapse into a weak-kneed _mess_ after they've had sex in the middle of the night once Dick comes home from work smelling of perfume and cologne from The Gin Joint.

There's something about this though, about seeing Dick like this that always seems new to Bruce.

Bruce presses one last kiss to the inside of Dick's right knee and then, heedless of the fact that the skin underneath his fingers sticky to the touch, he covers Dick's body with his own and kisses him.

"What—what about you, Bruce?" Dick asks, his eyes flicking down to where Bruce's cock presses firm and hot against Dick's stomach.

When he licks his lips, Bruce catches himself muffling a groan in the bend of Dick's throat as he flexes his hip, driving his cock down against Dick's body. Bruce's mouth moves against soft skin, dropping kisses that start out chaste but deepen with little bites the lower down Bruce goes. In a few hours, Dick will have Bruce's marks practically _covering_ his neck. All because Bruce can't control himself with Dick so close.

Eventually, Bruce does manage to collect himself. He pulls back from Dick's throat.

"There is – there's something I want to try," Bruce says in a rough, ragged tone. He reaches for Dick then, urging him to roll over on to his stomach and then push himself up onto his knees. The sight of Dick kneeling like that for Bruce makes his mouth dry out in an instant. Everything about Dick is distracting, but the view –

Bruce licks his lips and then rises up onto his own knees behind Dick. His cock curves up between them, nudging at Dick's well-muscled thighs and the crease of his ass. It would be so easy for Bruce to just shift a little bit more and slide his cock right into the welcoming clench of Dick's body. Bruce rolls his hips, thrusting his cock against Dick's body as Dick rocks backward and moans.

"C'mon," Dick says, almost growling at Bruce due to his impatience. Dick spreads his legs and then glances over his shoulder, pinning Bruce with a hungry look. "I know we have time, but we don't have _that_ much time." Dick arches his back, the position presenting the lube-slicked pucker of his hole and his swinging balls to Bruce's eyes as if framing them as an offering. His hole clenches quickly, drawing Bruce's gaze first and then the gentle press of his cock.

But Bruce _doesn't_ fuck Dick.

Not at first.

He ruts against the cleft of his lover's rear end, the head of his cock catching on slick flesh. He feels so good and yet so very dirty for wanting Dick like this. Bruce stares down at Dick's lovely back, at the way Dick's muscles shift as he moves. They move together as if they were made for one another, bodies fitting so well that Bruce honestly doesn't know how he's managed to survive for so long without Dick in his life. When Dick moans again, Bruce groans out something that vaguely sounds like his name, bracing his body over Dick's back so that he can have access to the nape of Dick's neck and the knobs of his spine.

Bruce is on fire from wanting.

He fucks against Dick with gentle thrusts of his hips at first and then with rougher, longer motions of his hips.

"Oh! Oh, _Bruce_ ," Dick says, body moving in counterpoint to the thrusts of Bruce's powerful body. He reaches back, fingers sliding over the sweat-slick side of Bruce's hip, fumbling as he tries to pull Bruce against him -- _in_ him. What Dick wants is obvious enough. Even though he's already had his fill of Bruce -- or something close to it -- he still wants that last bit. He wants Bruce to fuck him, to mount him properly and make him cry out with pleasure until his voice is hoarse from it.

Bruce knows _that_ much about Dick.

He pulls back, reaching for the lubricant and slicking his cock with a fast, almost perfunctory flick of the wrist that leaves his penis glistening in the light that streams in from the half-open bedroom windows. When he's done, all it takes is one good _yank_ and he's _inside of Dick_. The heat of their coupling sears Bruce. He groans, dragging Dick's ass against his groin as he rolls his hips over and over again. When he finds Dick's prostate, he knows.

Dick's mouth falls open with a wordless noise of pure exultation dropping from his parted lips. He slumps on the bed, body trembling as Bruce makes the best out of their situation and starts to pound into him with rough, eager thrusts that scoot Dick across the mattress.

"Oh, oh _god_ ," Dick moans, one hand slapping into the mattress in a futile attempt to keep from sliding too far forward. His body ripples around Bruce's dick, back bowing as Bruce rides him into the sheets until there's barely any space between them. Even when Dick isn't trying to say Bruce's name, he's still making noise. Crooning. Crying. _Begging_.

Bruce shifts so that he can drape his bigger body over Dick's back. He bites a bruising kiss against the nape of Dick's neck and then, shifts back enough so that he can grip Dick's hips in his hands and _really_ go to town on him. Everything about that moment is too much. Bruce feels his orgasm start to coil tight in the pit of his stomach and he groans, fingers digging into Dick's skin as he snaps his hips even faster. Beneath him, Dick is still squirming, still so _close_.

All it'll take is a few more moments and a little bit of help.

"Touch yourself," Bruce says in a raspy murmur that hardly sounds like his own voice. Bruce can't see Dick reach for his cock, can't see anything aside from the sweat trickling across Dick's skin and the way that the back of his neck flushes pinkish red, but he _knows_ when Dick touches himself. He can hear the sound of flesh on flesh, a slick and jerky rhythm that doesn't match the one he's using on Dick's body. He can feel it, the way that Dick's body tenses up and the faintest catch within his body as the pleasure of being fucked as he strokes his cock hits him.

Bruce grunts, hips working so hard that he knows that _both_ of their bodies will feel the results in a matter of hours.

As the orgasm hits Bruce, his world shrinks down to him and Dick.

It's the taste of salty sweat on his tongue from Dick's neck. The sound of their bodies slapping together. The thick scent of _sex_ in the air around them. The manor could wind up on fire and all Bruce would be able to focus on would be the presence of Dick's body and how good it feels to fuck him until he's almost begging for it.

Dick's shoulder flexes and he moans, body clenching around Bruce's cock. When he comes for the second time this round, Bruce can feel it. Dick's body becomes a pleasurable vise around him and Bruce just finds himself falling, coming. Bruce pulls out a few moments later when his world has returned to normal and he can think of something other than how he just wants to bribe Alfred to keep the kids away for just a little while longer.

Sweaty and stinking of sweat, Bruce flops over onto his side and pulls Dick close. He presses kisses to Dick's cheek as well as the top of his head and sighs at the way that Dick reaches for him, fingers sliding over Bruce's side as they lay in bed together.

For several minutes, the only sound in the room is that of their breathing. The air conditioning kicks on after a while and floods the suddenly stifling room with cool air, but Bruce doesn't even think of anything to say.

After a while though --

"How much do you think you'd have to pay Alfred to keep Chloe and Damian out of the house for another hour or two?"

Laughter spills from between Bruce's lips.

"I think you've read my mind," he says. "Why don't we call him before we shower and find out?"

One of Dick's dark eyebrows arches up. "Before the shower? _Someone_ seems very positive that we'll be doing something other than getting clean."

Bruce dips his head so that he can kiss that arched eyebrows. "Mm," he murmurs. "I think my chances of that are pretty high."

~

Later, while they're basking in the aftermath of another round of amazing sex, Bruce pulls Dick close and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

"I want you and Chloe to move in with me," Bruce says.

"Hm?" Dick's voice is heavy with sleep. "Move in?"

Bruce manages a shrug. "I've been thinking about it. It'd make sense for you to move in. We have plenty of room for you and Chloe. Besides, it's not as if you don't already spend every night here with me."

"Good point," Dick muses. "But what about Damian?"

"I think that the responsibility of having a baby to watch over will be good for him," Bruce says.

Dick tries and then fails to muffle his laughter against Bruce's bare chest. " _Damian_ ," he says, "The same child that decided to build a maze for my daughter to navigate through because his mythology homework wasn't interesting enough?"

Dick snorts. "He dressed Titus up like a Minotaur and put _her_ in a toga. My daughter was _Theseus_!"

"He does it with love," Bruce insists. "If he didn't like Chloe, he wouldn't even play with her as much as he does. I think he's always wanted a younger sibling."

Bruce hums as he reaches for one of Dick's hands. "And I've always wanted to give him one."

"Mm," Dick murmurs, pressing close and then slinging his left thigh over Bruce's leg. "You _do_ make a good point, Bruce, but why don't you try convincing me some more?"

They still have some time until Alfred comes back and all expectations of privacy go out through the window. Hopefully, Bruce thinks as he notices the wicked smile on his face, Dick will take a large amount of _convincing_ before their time is up.


End file.
